


The New S.T.A.R. Labs

by elrhiarhodan



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Bantering, Harrison Wells Needs a New Career, Harrison Wells has suspiciously poor taste in music, M/M, Sex Toys, poor cisco's head's about to explode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's bad enough that Harry Wells has taken over his work room, but to use it to build <i>that</i> is absolutely unforgiveable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New S.T.A.R. Labs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesfortravellers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/gifts).



> Absolutely inspired by Storiesfortravellers' response to my request for her headcanon about Earth-2 Harrison Wells in this [ post on her LJ](http://daria234.livejournal.com/111649.html?thread=924449#t924449), specifically about Harrison's favorite kink.

Why Cisco thought that his life would be any different once Jesse was rescued and Zoom defeated, he had no clue. Maybe if Harry had decided to stay on his Earth, in his S.T.A.R. Labs, with its luxurious offices and vanity portraits and endless fountains of money, instead of co-opting his workroom with its sole luxury - a built-in fridge that he kept stocked with tall cans of Red Bull and bottled Starbuck's Frappuccino – things might be just a little better.

But no. The man still insisted on using his workroom, and for _what_? Zoom was dead, Jesse was safe, and Harry Wells was tinkering with something and singing along to … _oh my god_ ... Enrique Iglesias' _Tonight (I'm Fucking You)_.

Right. Cisco blinked, rubbed his ears, took a deep breath, and prepared to do battle.

He stormed into _his_ workroom, hit the volume control on _his_ music player and took perverse enjoyment when Harry burned himself with the soldering iron.

"Ramon, what the hell?"

"There are some things that are simply not acceptable. Like that song! Playing it in my hearing range!"

"Well, you're always welcome not to be here."

"Go to hell." As comebacks went, that one pretty much sucked, and blowed.

Harry grinned, that evil, toothy, ear-to-ear smile that never failed to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. "What's the matter, you don't like to think about … fucking?"

Cisco held up a hand and turned away. "I am NOT having this conversation with you." Two weeks ago, Harry had walked in on him and Barry indulging in a little mutual "stress" relief. To Cisco's shock, Barry had asked Harry if he wanted to join them. Harry just stood in the doorway, that same wicked grin on his face, and said he would just like to watch, _this time_.

"You are an evil man, Harry Wells."

The evil man just kept smiling and watching him like a hawk who'd just zeroed in on a tasty mouse.

Desperate to distract Harry from whatever evil thoughts were percolating in that evil genius brain of his, Cisco looked at the project on the workbench. It was surprisingly … mechanical. His own engineering curiosity piqued, he asked for permission to pick it up.

Harry was surprisingly magnanimous. "Go right ahead."

There were a lot of tiny gears and pistons and actuators – it looked like Harry had cannibalized something from _The Terminator_. But the movement was strange – like of orbital rotator married to a thrust mechanism. And it was surprisingly beautiful. Every element was etched, and this probably explained why Harry had been monopolizing the CNC machine for the past week. Cisco picked up a pair of magnifying goggles and took a closer look at the carving – it was a variant of the S.T.A.R. Labs logo.

"What is this?"

Harry didn't lose the grin. If anything, it got a touch broader and a hell of a lot wickeder. "A fucking machine."

"I know it's a machine, you don't have to curse at me."

Harry chuckled, "No, Ramon. It is a fucking machine. _Apparatus fututio_."

"Yah!" He all but threw the thing at Harry.

"Careful, I've put in several dozen hours on the build alone."

Damn, but the man was actually petting the thing. "What the hell, Harry? Don't tell me you're actually using S.T.A.R. Labs resources to build sex toys."

Harry checked the gear and piston motion before carefully setting the _fucking machine_ back down on the workbench. "Yes. Very beautiful, very elaborate sex toys."

Cisco didn't know whether he should be creeped out or aroused by the look Harry gave to his toy.

"When I'm finished with that, it will be the most advanced and overdesigned sex toy this Earth has ever seen."

"Really? This is what it's come to?" Cisco actually blushed at the unintended double-entendre.

But Harry didn't notice. "Ramon, it might have escaped your notice, but I'm not exactly employable here. I share a name and a face – not to mention the rest of my biometric details – with a dead, confessed murderer. I have no money, no way of generating income, and I have a daughter to support."

"So, the world's smartest man is what, going into the sex toy business?"

Harry nodded, "That pretty much sums it up."

While the engineer, the man who built impossible things every day, was kind of intrigued, the young and impressionable kid who'd once looked up to that dead confessed murderer (and also his short-tempered, inclined-to-throw-things doppelganger) was appalled. "No, no – this isn't happening. What will Jesse say?"

"My daughter's pragmatic. She'll understand when I tell her."

"No, no she's not. Remember the last time you argued?" Over Red Bull and Twizzlers, Jesse had told him about her reaction to learning that the particle accelerator explosion had created the meta-humans on her Earth.

"Thank you, Ramon, for reminding me of one of the most awful times in my life."

"Hey – you're the one who started this. You're building sex toys!"

"Say that any louder and Jesse's going to hear you."

"Fuck." Cisco paced around his workroom. _His_ workroom, the place where he created the Cold Gun, the Speed Canon, the Flash's suit, and so many other technological marvels. "Why do you have to do that here?" He watched Harry as he fiddled with the mechanism, making tiny adjustments to the rotational axis.

"Maybe because it pisses you off so much." Harry didn't even bother to look up as he delivered that bomb.

"I'm gonna evict you."

"As the old expression goes, you had whose army?"

Cisco played his ace very proudly, "Barry, that's who!"

"Oh, really?" Harry leaned back and grinned again. "Who do you think has provided me with the startup capital for the new S.T.A.R. Labs?"

"You've _got_ to be kidding me? Barry? He knows about this?"

"Knows and approves and has even signed up as a product tester."

Cisco did his best to ignore that. "And what do you mean, the new S.T.A.R. Labs? You're going to market your … sex toys … as products of S.T.A.R. Labs?"

"That's right. S.T.A.R. Labs – _Sexual Technology and Amatory Research Laboratories_. Even have a new logo for it." That bastard looked way too smug as he fished through the piles of paper on the desk, pulled out a single sheet and handed to him.

He took one look at it and through he was going to have a heart attack. "No, no, no. And No a million times more, plus infinity. No." Cisco dropped the paper as if it were made of poison.

"What's the matter, Ramon."

"You are not this evil. I refuse to believe that you are really this evil. You did NOT turn the S.T.A.R. Labs logo into an anal star."

Harry picked up the paper he'd dropped and gave it another look. "Hmmm, yes – I think I did."

"You know what, Harry? I'm going to walk out of here and pretend this conversation never happened. That this is actually part of another timeline where you're a non-murderous but extremely insane version of yourself."

"Hmmm, that's fine, Ramon. Believe what you want." Harry turned his music back on, and did that thing where he turned his entire attention away from everyone else – away from him – and focused on his own shit. On that infernal fucking machine that looked like it belonged in some exhibition of Victorian mechanical arts.

Cisco stood there, feeling like the butt of a massive joke, except he knew this really wasn't a joke. The smartest man in the world was building sex toys. In his workroom. While listening to Enrique Iglesias.

How the hell was this his life, now?

_From the window, to the wall_  
_Gonna give you, my all_  
_Winter or the summertime_  
_When I get you on the springs_  
_I'ma make you fall, you got that body_  
_That make me wanna get on the floor_  
_Just to see you dance_  
_And I love the way you shake that ass_  
_Turn around and let me see them pants_  
_You stuck with me I'm stuck with you_  
_Let's find something to do_  
_(Please) excuse me I don't mean to be rude_

_But tonight I'm fucking you_  
_Oh you know, that tonight I'm fucking you_  
_Oh you know, that tonight I'm fucking you_  
_Oh you know, that tonight I'm fucking you, oh you know_  
_That tonight I'm fucking you_  
_That tonight I'm fucking you, yeah_

 

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, all rights to the lyrics for "Tonight (I'm Fucking You)" belong to Enrique Iglesias, Lauren Christy and Christopher Bridges (the songwriters).


End file.
